


A Semblance of Peace

by ChocolatePecan



Series: A Place for Tomorrow [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic, Gen, Peace, eating together brings people closer, gladio knows how to predict rain, ignis doesn't give up on the greens, it's cold outside but in here it's warm, noct loves his found family but can't say it out loud, prompto is honest with noct, sticking together no matter what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 00:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolatePecan/pseuds/ChocolatePecan
Summary: Tonight at camp, the conversation is casual. Fresh fish makes up the food, and good company makes up the rest. It's not the first time Noct's thought it, but he's starting to really understand that the simple things in life can also be the most essential.On this haven, alongside his brothers, Noct is at peace. When he steps off into the wilds, he'll go back to being the most wanted man in Eos. Half the world wants him dead, and that doesn't include the daemons or the beasts.After Insomnia fell, all Noct had left were the three men sworn to protect him and fight at his side. Despite everything, it's never occurred to them to leave.





	A Semblance of Peace

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third prompt fill from an 'inspire me!' request I made on my tumblr (details in the end notes).
> 
> This one's for Anon 1 and their prompt words: peace, Noctis, dinner, and camp. I hope you can find me again to read it! :D

The light from the camp’s fire leaves an orange crescent on the Wennath. Beyond it, all Noct can see is the black silhouette of trees standing at each other’s backs. The shore of the river surrounds the haven, and the crash of its pebbles intensifies whenever the tide pulses. Out of sight, an Iron Giant roars, but the blue sigils of the haven will be enough to keep all comers out.

Kitchen foil rustles as Ignis turns the skewered wild trout he’s preparing for dinner. Noct caught it fresh that afternoon, a fifteen-pound monster that’ll keep them in fish dinners for days. Prompto is helping, though from Ignis’ tone he’d rather he didn’t.

“If you turn them again they’ll fall off the skewers.”

“Aww, just once more, Igster. They’re blackening a bit on the underside, see?”

Noct cranes his neck to peer at them over the back of his camping chair. He knows it’s high enough to hide his grin. Ignis might complain sometimes about doing all the cooking, but just try to take that responsibility away from him. He’s the master of his own kitchen.

“Hey, Padawan,” Noct calls to Prompto, thinking Ignis could use a break. When Prompto turns to him, all his keenness showing like a lit torch, Noct raises his phone. “King’s Knight.”

Putting down the plates he’s been holding, Prompto jumps into the chair next to Noct. He draws his phone like it’s one of his guns. “Zell tree, zell tree! That thing must be ready to harvest by now.”

Noct opens the app. “Got more money in this game than we do in real life.”

Gladio crouches at the fire, stoking it one-handed. The index finger of his other hand is trapped between the pages of a book.

“You playing, Gladio?” Noct asks.

“After dinner. I want to finish this chapter.” Gladio settles himself back into his camping chair, his hand dropping to a bottle of Jetty’s.

“Don’t get too involved, any of you. Dinner will be ready in five minutes.” Ignis pours something over the skewers with a flourish. There’s a sizzle, and Prompto – who can’t keep his feelings off his face, no matter how much of a closed book he thinks he is – looks wistful. His hand goes to his stomach, then with a crooked finger he wipes the corner of his mouth.

Noct laughs. “Are you drooling?” He knows the answer already.

“No!” Prompto gestures exaggeratedly at their half-hidden surroundings. “It’s just moist around here! Clouds! River! Wet stuff!”

Noct points up at the infinity of stars over the land that is his birth right. “There are no clouds tonight.”

Prompto wags a finger. “You never know when the rain will hit. It’s coming. I feel it in my shoulders.”

“So you’ve got a built-in barometer now?” Gladio looks up from his book.

“Aren’t you finishing that chapter?” Prompto lets both arms drop over the rests as he focuses on the sky.

Ignis loads the plates with skewers. “Perhaps Prompto can tell us what weather to expect tomorrow morning? I believe we left the roof of the Regalia down.”

Noct can see him putting something that looks like wilted spinach on their plates. He didn’t even know you could get spinach out here. “You know I don’t eat anything green, Ignis.”

Ignis continues to spoon large helpings of spinach onto each plate “What was that, Noct?”

“You never stop trying, do you?” Noct can’t deny that he enjoys Ignis’ creativity, though. Nobody else has ever cared as much about what he puts in his body. Not enough to hide broccoli in soufflé, blend Altissian celeriac into a puree and pretend it’s mashed potato, or sneak a baffling amount of tomatoes into dry-aged tender roast stew.

Gladio and Prompto are still debating tomorrow’s weather. Gladio’s even taken his bookmark out of the back of the book. He taps it on his knee. “I’m telling you, it’ll be good weather tomorrow.”         

“And how do you know?” If Prompto sits any further forward on his chair, he’ll topple it.

“Take a look at the smoke from the fire.” Gladio moves the bookmark to his current page, then puts the book on the ground. “What do you see?”

“It's not very crackly?” Noct says. He takes a plate from Ignis with a grateful nod.

“That’s just the fuel,” says Gladio. “What else?”

“The smoke goes straight up.” Prompto says. “No wind tonight.”

“If the weather’s going to be bad, the smoke’ll spiral back down to the fire due to low atmospheric pressure.” Gladio takes a plate from Ignis with thanks.

 “So if the pressure’s low, you’ll have all the smoke in your face.” Prompto’s noise of realisation is followed by the keen of somebody who is very hungry, and very happy to finally be given a plate. Noct notices Ignis’ smile as he sits with a bottle of Jetty’s, even if Prompto doesn’t see it.

Over the last few months, Ignis and Prompto have become much closer than Noct expected. When he wakes from a doze it’s often to find them talking in the doorway of the caravan while Gladio reads. In the early morning, when Noct can finally drag himself out of the tent, it’s often to see Prompto stirring whatever’s in the pot, talking glibly while Ignis nods and suggests he add something _for a little more flavour._

Ignis was deliberately dismissive at first: _Monica is a servant of the Crownsguard, like Gladio and myself_ (but not you, outsider. Your uniform does not a Crownsguard make). After a battle, when Prompto doubted himself and Gladio told him he’d get used to fighting: _I wouldn’t count on that myself_ (you will have to keep justifying your presence here, outsider). Ignis’ prickliness could make a hedgehog feel naked.

He’s softened up now that he knows Prompto is as dedicated as he is. For his part, Prompto doesn’t unlock easily. In social situations, he overcompensates or freezes, but he’s become almost as open with Ignis now as he is with Noct. It’s rewarding to know that two of his favourite people both realise the other isn’t a threat.

Noct’s not sure how to feel about the fact that Ignis now rescues them both at roughly the same speed. Pleased, he thinks, once the spike of jealousy settles down.

The trout skewers are all the better for being made from fresh fish. They’re seasoned just enough to give them bite but not overpower them.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Specs,” Noct says after swallowing a mouthful of moist, flaky goodness.

“Does that mean you’ll eat your greens?” Ignis asks, a skewer raised halfway to his mouth.

“Hell no.” Noct loses the last bite of a skewer to the plate. Jabbing it with the point of the bamboo, he pops it in his mouth.

Noct forks the spinach from his plate to Ignis’ own. Holding the plate closer to Noct to make it easier, Ignis sighs. “My dastardly plan for your gastrointestinal microbiota, thwarted again.”

“At least _you’re_ getting all your veggies in, Iggy.” Prompto holds a too-hot bite of fish between his teeth and breathes around it.

“In a battle of wills I may come second, but in a battle of serum iron levels nobody can beat me.” Ignis sips from his Jetty’s. The man can’t do anything indelicate. Everything is done with precision. Noct wonders if he was a samurai warrior in a former life, then thinks he’s probably not so different in this one.

Given the circumstances of his leaving, Noct hadn’t looked forward to departing Insomnia. When his father had told him he’d be leaving for marriage, he hadn’t been surprised. It was a long-held tradition that the Oracle and the Crown Prince of Insomnia would be wed. His period of convalescence in Tenebrae hadn’t been without a future plan. Now that he was older he was able to see the politicking that happened behind the scenes – though not all of it.

He hadn’t known the last time he’d see his father would be on the steps of the grandiose Citadel, a building that pretended to be safe. If he had, Noct would have said different things. He’d have told his dad he loved him, even though he was angry with him. Angry because he’d let their people down by dooming those outside the wall to a future under Niflheim rule. Angry because he’d acquiesced to NIflheim’s demand that the peace treaty be signed in their own city, rather than somewhere like semi-autonomous Altissia. Angry for not telling him the truth: that his dad knew there would be no home to come back to once the city gates were closed behind him and that everything he knew, owned, and loved, would be consigned to a car.

Noct has no idea what will happen with Luna, and doesn’t know for sure that she’s safe. He doesn’t know if he’ll manage to meet her in Altissia, given all the interference from Niflheim. But, like he says to Prompto, he doesn’t worry. He has three people doing that for him, and they do it far better than he could. Without them, this entire journey – even with the hard-edged beauty of the landscape – would be impossible.

He is reviled by those who used to be his subjects, and chased by enemies sent from the militant, unopposed emperor of Eos. He’s lost all the riches magic made possible in Insomnia. He has to scavenge his own food, build his own temporary homes, live out of the rear of a car. He’s a hobo. The hobo prince of a devastated city.

But when he makes those temporary homes each night, either by scavenging wood or helping with the tent, taking turns for the bathroom or hogging the one electric fan, his family comes with him. They’ve all had the opportunity to abandon him. A king without a kingdom isn’t a king. But his queen, knight, and rook, have all remained steadfastly at his side. Even his bishop has refused to leave.

Noct had given Prompto the opportunity to stay behind in Lestallum when they first reached it. On the excuse that they needed more ice for the cooler, they’d left Ignis and Gladio in the Leville and had stepped outside for a walk. Sequestered away in a back street, Noct had said, _This is way more than you signed up for. If you want to stay here with the refugees, stay._

Noct had been surprised by Prompto’s level of offence. _Dude, are you really asking me to stay here while you go throw yourself into a war?_ Dropping his shoulders, a look of loss had lingered around his eyes. _Am I getting in the way? I know I’m new at this but –_

 _No! It’s not that._ But if not that, then what? Noct understood and interpreted his own instincts well, but how could he frame it in words that Prompto would understand? Eventually, Noct said, _Actually, I’d like it if you didn’t die._

Prompto hadn’t missed a beat. _Right back atcha._ _And the best way for me to achieve that is for you to let me come with. I don’t have anything else, dude. My parents don’t seem to have got out, I can’t go home… Let me fight for you. For Insomnia. Don’t ask me to stay behind when I can help. Don’t ask me to leave you. You’re all I’ve got._

Night has turned the Wennath black, but even as he looks at it Noct has to swallow back emotion. He’s good at hiding it. He’s had a lot of practice.

He takes a mental picture of his brothers as they all sit around the campfire; Gladio waving his big hand with a laugh, Ignis reaching out a hand for Prompto’s empty plate, and Prompto handing it over with some grateful words. 

Turning to Noct, Prompto asks, “What do you think, Noct?”

He’s obviously missed a large chunk of conversation. “Hmm? About what?”

“What does peace look like to you?”

Noct looks over Prompto’s shoulder into the overlay of dark tree branches. On the left of them is a knoll of greeny-black, the kind of open space that will shine a brilliant forest green come the morning. The lapping of the river against the rocks is soothing as the fire starts to burn low.

Noct looks at each of his brothers in turn. “It looks a lot like this,” he says with a smile, before leaning back in his camping chair and putting his feet up on the cooler.

**Author's Note:**

> I am still taking prompts, though my response times have been a little slower lately. These were supposed to be 500 word drabbles, but they're all settling between 1500-2000 words so far. That's one of the reasons they're taking a while! 
> 
> Come over to my [tumblr](https://opheliacrow.tumblr.com/) and give me a word, a FFXV character, an object, and a place in Eos, and I’ll give you somewhere between 1500-2000 words. If you'd like to set a tone, and a time (20's bros, 30's bros, pre-bros...) you can give me those details too, or you can let me decide on your behalf. I do need those first four things, though. 
> 
> If you'd like to, you can ask anonymously (though don't be shy; I'm pretty laid back :)).


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